365 - Izuku on the Rise
by Michinokao
Summary: Izuku is born a year earlier and the whole plot crumbles happily away. Featuring: A class consisting of a single student, Aizawa being a homeroom teacher twice and Izuku becoming slightly terrifying without Bakugou's constant toxic influence. [mentioned Erasermic, otherwise gen]
1. Class 1-A

A/N: I'm cross-posting this here because I actually have an idea what I want to do with it (you can find more stories of mine on AO3 - same name there. I'm just as much of a mess on there as here, only gayer). No worries about my other fics though, they're still being written. I just... am pretty terrible at focusing on a single stories.

Erasermic is going to be mentioned. However, it isn't really important for the story. I just built it in because my bisexual brain clings onto that ship. Otherwise, this story'll be gen.

You can find me on tumblr btw: mindfogerased

Have fun, kids

* * *

Izuku still can't quite believe that this is happening right now. In front of him the gigantic building that is the main part of UA High towers mighty into the sky; so far into the clouds in fact that he has to crane his head when he wants to look at the whole thing. God, this really _is _actually somehow happening. His knees shiver when he tentatively walks towards the entrance.

He hasn't thought he'd pass in all honesty. When the exam was announced, he'd immediately thought to himself: "Well, fuck." As a rule, no weapons (apart from already illegal ones) were prohibited from being used against robots, sure, but a baseball bat and a frying pan can only do so much. To be frank, it was astounding that Izuku had even managed to gather eighteen combat points before his weapons completely gave up on him. Then his helper syndrome had kicked in after a round of excessive mental language expression.

And well... if there's one thing Midoriya Izuku is good at it's poking his head into other people's businesses. Thus, the fifteen year old had managed to obtain sixty rescue points, rocketing his score up to whopping seventy-eight points in total. Not only has he landed himself a place in UA – his dream school, the one he's wanted to be enrolled at ever since he'd first learnt about it when he was nine – no, he also completely blew up his own expectations and came out of that exam in _first place_.

Izuku draws in a deep breath and steadies himself before he enters the facility. Promptly he finds himself lost but after asking Present Mic (oh damn, it's really THE pro hero himself!) where his classroom is located, Izuku soon spots the huge ass metal door with the stylized font depicting 1-A on it. That's it – In this room are going to be all of his future classmates. He hopes they aren't going to be ignoring him like the ones in middle school. Albeit it's considerably better to be ignored than to be hated, the teenager muses.

Well, there goes nothing!

After opening the door, Izuku can't help but wish he could just go back to not knowing what his classmates are like. The first thing he notices is a girl who rubs herself against four boys at the same time. Okay...? Then there are five guys who are already trying to tear each other's heads off, which is not something he'd ever thought to find at a hero school on the very first day.

A girl with vacant eyes doodles on school property and next to her another one nervously keeps biting her bottom lip while looking around in fear. Both of them have black hair and look fairly similar to each other. Maybe they're twins.

Some students are fixated on their phones. They didn't look up when he came in and...

"You're in the way, loser!" Oh, wow, the blackboard doesn't taste too well. Izuku steps away from said board and hastily swipes chalk away from his mouth. He turns to see two boys (one who has pushed him pretty harshly – the one with the big hands most likely) and a girl with bushy grey tail trot into the room. They don't spare him or any of the others a single glance and plop down on three unoccupied seats.

Izuku feels the hairs on his neck rise and focuses on the door again where, to his utter confusion, a man in a sleeping bag watches the scene with the most "I'm done" mimic he's ever seen. Midoriya throws a glance at the clock. Five minutes until their teacher should arrive. Perhaps this man is the teacher. He decides to don him a respectful nod and try to solve some of the... problems he sees. As mentioned previously: Izuku likes to stumble into people's businesses.

First of all, he goes to the five guys who are still fighting. "I'm sorry?" he asks, as polite as he can. Two muster him and, apparently, don't think he should be noticed at all. Another one, however, one with blue skin and shrill neon orange hair doesn't like Izuku's input – doesn't matter how small it is – and growls: "Who do you think you are, shrimp?!"

Rude. Izuku has grown a bit over the holidays. The green haired boy replies: "I'm Midoriya Izuku... and I'm pretty sure about it. So, you know, I'm not just thinking I'm Midoriya Izuku. I know for a fact that I am."

"Oho" says a boy with dog ears, "That's rich. Motherfucker thinks he's a smartass, doesn't he?"

"Heh, yeah, smartass." another one, this time someone who seems to be half-melted parrots dumbly and immediately breaks out laughing afterwards.

Izuku doesn't quite know what to say to that. Honestly, if it weren't for the caterpillar man deciding to roll into the classroom, he would have probably just silently walked away. He's not one to judge easily but he can tell those five wouldn't listen to any form of reasoning.

Caterpillar man, however, does decide to roll into the room and a quick check at the clock affirms Midoriya's suspicion – it's their homeroom teacher.

"I'm Aizawa Shou..." he halts when he picks up on the faint squeaking noise near the teacher's desk. He sheathes the sleeping bag from his body and tendrils of capture cloth pick up one of the twins. It's the girl who's been drawing little flowers with permanent marker onto random wooden surfaces.

Her vacant eyes suddenly fill with life when the teacher sends a literal death glare to the other twin. "Ryokin Roru, quirk: Control. Why do you make your sister violate school rules?"

The permanent marker slips out of the captured girl's fingers. Izuku can tell she's truly shocked at the revelation and throws an accusing glance at Roru. Said girl grits her teeth in anger. "I don't want to have Setsu in _my class_. It's _my _dream, you hear?! Mine! She doesn't have the right to become famous like me!"

Izuku's half-melted classmate, who stands next to him, begins snickering under his breath at the dramatic scene.

Aizawa-sensei rubs his nose bridge, letting his quirk ("Oh my god, we have Eraserhead as our homeroom teacher!" Izuku internally squeals.) fade and levels Roru with a _Bitch-Are-You-For-Real _gaze. Then he sighs and states in the most dead-pan voice Izuku has ever heard: "You don't have the right to become famous if you go around abusing your quirk. Also, you're expelled."

"I'm what?! You can't do that, it's literally the first day! You didn't even see what I can do with my quirk!" the girl roars, every bit of her nervous exterior vanishing in less than a second after their teacher's exclamation.

"I can, I will and I've seen enough. Now, get out."

Thus, there the first student goes, leaving the classroom in a state of rage and despair. The second one is quick to follow and surprises Izuku a bit. Ryokin Setsu, awfully quiet and obviously holding back tears, is gently placed on the floor, capture weapon falling limp onto Aizawa-sensei's shoulders. Setsu bites her lip and takes Roru's and her bags. She turns to Eraserhead and bows, saying: "I'm deeply sorry for causing such an inconvenience but... I actually just wanted to become a hero to support my sister."

Another sigh forces itself out of Aizawa's mouth. "Alright. Please go to the secretary to sign out of your enrolment. Anyone else want to quit right now?" The rest of the class shakes their heads in disagreement.

"Good" Aizawa-sensei continues when Setsu's out of the room, "As I was saying: My name is Aizawa Shouta and I'm your homeroom teacher. Wear these" he throws UA sport uniforms onto the desk, "and then we'll evaluate your skills outside."

"_Skills?"_ Izuku thinks, confused at the choice of words. Normally, any other teacher would have probably called it a quirk test. In UA, just as in every other hero school, pupils are required to have their quirks considered by grown heroes before tuition begins. He's read that in a magazine interview about Shiketsu. (Actually, he'd bought the thing for the four page long article on Sir Nighteye who was a huge influence in little seven year old Midoriya's life.) So why would their homeroom teacher call it a "skill evaluation"? Is it because of him? Or maybe, perhaps –

"Quit muttering, you freak!" hisses the blue-skinned boy who coincidentally stands next to him in the changing room. Izuku shuts up, feeling his cheeks heat up. This verbal tick of his is such a nuisance sometimes!

"Haha, yeah, you freak!" laughs Mister Half-Melt, elbowing Izuku (admittedly rather gently) in his naked ribs. Izuku wonders what he did to deserve seemingly yet another three years of general dislike. Is it his hair, his plain looks... the muttering perhaps? His interference earlier? He honestly doesn't see the reason why. They don't know he's quirkless yet so that can't be it.

He changes quickly, for a few seconds he's relieved no-one's staring at the blueish-yellow mottled parts of his skin – a result of having weekly parcours, martial arts and football training – and trots out of the locker and onto the field. Izuku's the first one, standing quite unsure next to his teacher who grows more and more _done _as time progresses.

Where the hell are his classmates? Like... he'd have understood if there were even a steady trickle of incomers but nobody – neither girl nor boy – appears for quite a while. Aizawa-sensei motions him to stay put and walks towards the changing rooms.

In the meantime, without an awkward air between teacher and student, Izuku looks around the facility in awe. This is UA and one can sure see it. The largeness of this single field alone makes the teen jittery with enthusiasm. He's finally able to put actions behind his dreams and words! And with Eraserhead as his sensei – a hero who has to rely on his own physical prowess in fights – he feels so _ready_ to start.

Izuku's grin is small and just large enough for it to even count as such as he paces leisurely back and forth, enjoying the wind ruffling gently through his hair.

Aizawa-sensei comes back with exactly seven pupils. Izuku neither sees the girl who's rubbed herself on the boys nor said boys nor the five guys who were involved in the fight when he entered 1-A's classroom. Alright? The smile slips off his face as he analyzes the situation. Has Aizawa-sensei expelled all of them? But... isn't that a bit harsh? Well, Aizawa-sensei probably has his reasons. He'd just like to actually know them, is all.

"We are here for a skill evaluation. It's skill evaluation and not quirk evaluation due to the fact that one of you doesn't have a quirk –"

"What?!" the girl with the bushy tail gasps and a disgusted look flashes over her pretty features, "How can a freak like that be admitted into UA?!" Izuku inwardly recoils at her insulting tone. He swallows down the need to justify his presence. The first and only time he's tried to do that hadn't ended well.

The scraggly man's eyes lie on her instantly. In a calm voice he asks: "Can you explain your dislike for quirkless people?"

Confusion spreads over the girl's visage. This way, she seems really cute in Izuku's humble opinion. "They're not even people, honestly." Oh, okay, _ouch_.

"Ah." Eraserhead nods, "Is there anyone else who thinks like that? I just want to know – maybe I can do something about your discomfort. Raise your hand if you think quirkless means worthless."

Tears slowly gather in Izuku's eyes when every single remaining classmate of his raises their arms. Is he really so revolting? He'd thought... he'd really thought...

"Good, then let me tell you something. This boy here" Aizawa-sensei points at Izuku who wants to sink into the floor, "is said quirkless student. His name is Midoriya Izuku and he scored first at the entrance exam in both written _and _physical tests. He's more cut-out to become a hero than any of you at this moment despite being quirkless. If I hadn't seen an underage student stripping today, I would maybe be more lenient and consider it done with a sincere apology to Midoriya and a well-done performance. I'm beyond that, however, and I can honestly say that you all, apart from Midoriya, are a disgrace to this school."

Silence hangs in the air, only broken by Izuku's choked-back sob. No teacher has ever said something so _nice _to him. They usually tend to either ignore or just kinda accept him for his good grades but this... this is faith. Aizawa-sensei, Eraserhead, has faith in _him._ It's good to know how what that feels like but surely, the boy can't have read the message between the lines correctly. If so –

"Yes, that means you're all expelled except for Midoriya. Leave the track suits in the lockers."

"You can't do that! You tricked us!" a black-haired boy yells angrily, baring his teeth.

"What can I say?" the teacher shrugs before a truly terrifying grin splits his lips and widens his bloodshot sclera, "It was a logical ruse."

After that, not many more dare to argue. Izuku wonders if Aizawa-sensei knows how unhinged that smirk of his is. He watches fascinated as the last seven of his classmates retreat with minimal grumbling and maximal wrath. Weirdly enough, a mathematical equation appears in Izuku's mind; something along the lines of exponential decrease of vocal displeasure with the steady increase of anger.

When the not-anymore-students are gone from his sight, Aizawa-sensei lets out a sigh. "I'm so going to get parent complaints. Midoriya, here's a ball. Throw it. We're still having that evaluation."

A softball is given to Izuku. He does as instructed because he doesn't want to be expelled for dumbly staring at his homeroom teacher. With all of his upper body strength, the freckled teenager sends the ball hurling.

"Seventy-five metres. Good, now sprint."

In the sprint fraction, Izuku achieves 5.7 seconds, 71 kg in the grip test, 2.3 metres in the long jump, sidesteps 84 times in a minute and, last but not least, can last nearly six minutes in the endurance test until he drops to the ground sweaty and heavily breathing.

"Decent for now. Obviously, we'll train towards raising your scores, Plus Ultra and all. For now, you've done a good job. Get changed and I'll give you the lesson plan. Oh, and Midoriya?" Izuku feels goose bumps on his neck before he turns his head to his teacher who has adopted that crazed grin again, "Welcome to class 1-A."

Should a greeting sound that much like a threat?


	2. Two Encounters

A/N: So, here's the second chapter.

As always, here's my tumblr: mindfogerased

Have fun, kids

* * *

Izuku blinks at the title of his schedule. It says "Joint Timetable 1-A & 1-B (If Shouta actually has students this time o-)". "Eh, Aizawa-sensei?" he asks the man who shucks the _other possible timetables _into the trash bin.

"What is it, Midoriya?"

"I-Is that a microphone emoji?"

Aizawa-sensei raises an eyebrow and motions for Izuku to let him take a look at the paper again. The boy obliges. Tired, bloodshot eyes fly over the first sentence and he _sighs_. It's not a normal sigh by any means – it manages to convey fondness, exasperation as well as disbelief all in one.

Izuku thinks he hears a muffled "Goddamn it, Hizashi" but Aizawa-sensei just hands him the schedule back and nods. "Yes" he says out loud, "No wonder that, you'll have lessons with Mic's class after all."

"W-With Present Mic's class?!" Izuku eagerly asks, "He's the homeroom teacher of 1-B?"

"Yes. And your English teacher." Aizawa supplies.

For a moment, it seems as if Izuku's vibrating with the amount of enthusiasm he displays. He now happily reads over the rest of his timetable. In the mornings, he'll have homeroom with Aizawa-sensei in class 1-A. However, homeroom isn't the only class Eraserhead teaches. Izuku frowns at the afternoon classes he apparently has twice a week. It doesn't really say which subject it is; it's only marked as being with Eraserhead and, just as homeroom, 1-A exclusive.

"What about the afternoon classes?"

Izuku gulps when he sees how sinister Aizawa-sensei grins. "Let's just call them _Underground Heroics_. I have to be honest with you; someone like you will have to rely on stealth, dirty fighting, weapons and intelligence to become a hero, either underground or limelight. Vlad King can teach you the basics and I'll drill tactics and tricks I've learnt on the streets into you. Do you have any other afternoon activities? If so, you'll have to tell me whether they overlap with the plan."

The boy thinks about his schedule for a moment and then shakes his head. "No" he tells the man, "I have a parcours class on Saturday, another one on Tuesday. Taekwondo is on Wednesday and late in the evening on Saturday and football on Friday and Sunday. Mondays and Thursdays are pretty much free normally, so that's quite well. Eh – I mean..." sheepishly, he shuts up. His teacher's grin somehow intensifies.

"That's good. I won't have to go easy on you then." Izuku has probably just condemned himself to a life full of pain. Shouldn't he feel a bit less giddy about that? Ah, well...

"I'll see you tomorrow, Midoriya." Sensei grabs his yellow sleeping bag and shuffles out of classroom 1-A. Izuku stares after him, still not truly comprehending this day's events. One cannot fault him for that, in all honesty. This day felt like a week. Maybe it has something to do with how quickly everyone else had been expelled.

In a haze, the fifteen year old trots out of UA's facility and to the train station. On his way, he sees a villain fight from afar. A heroine called Stonehunch fires pebbles at high speed out of her rocky hunchback at a sickly thin man with sharp, pointy feet. Izuku knows the heroine will win because the villain already looks as if he's nearly keeling over.

He doesn't unpack his Hero Analysis notebook (current number: 16) because he's pretty sure he wrote down a page or two about Stonehunch in the 14th one. Absent-mindedly, he throws a glance at his phone. The train will arrive in twenty minutes anyways. It's not as if anyone but his mom is waiting for him at home, though, so even if he misses it no harm's done. He swallows down a bitter sigh, adjusting his subtle dark blue All Might backpack on his sore shoulders. The Sir Nighteye charm rustles against the fabric.

Today, the weather's objectively beautiful. A mostly cloudless sky lets the sun through perfectly. It isn't even uncomfortably hot. Apart from a couple of other people, he's alone at the train station. That's no wonder as Aizawa-sensei's test hasn't lasted longer than the usual opening ceremony. Izuku is surprised the principal allowed his homeroom teacher to skip it. Then again, Aizawa-sensei probably just smiled at his boss once and Nedzu caved in. Those smiles... Izuku shudders when he thinks about them.

He wishes he could grin like that. It would definitely scare the hell out of villains. Is Eraserhead's smile the underground equivalent to All Might's?

"U-Um, e-e-excuse m-me?" a timid voice asks directly next to his ear. Izuku, who had been too invested in his thought process, _shrieks_ and with adrenaline pumping in his veins he spins around, punching forward reflexively. Only after he hears a sickeningly crunch the freckled boy stops in his tracks. He winces at the sight of a boy holding his nose. Red liquid drops onto the asphalt below. A couple of seconds later, the realization settles in. Izuku has probably broken someone's nose just now... oh. Oh, shit.

"J-Jeez... are you alright?" the green haired boy kneels down, carefully laying a hand on the other boy's shoulder. Indigo-coloured eyes widen in shock. Suddenly, Izuku finds himself with an aching behind, sitting on the ground as he stares at the retreating back of the person he's injured. The guy is running away, Izuku thinks shell-shocked. The guy is running away from _him_. Well, he did pretty much slam his fist into the other's face. He guesses this sort of behaviour warrants a flight instinct.

Izuku wonders, though. Hasn't that been a UA uniform he just saw on the boy? Did he break one of his future lessonmates' (because, well, they aren't in his class, those students in 1-B) nose? Damn, he hopes not. That would be awkward as hell. He groans. It already _is _awkward as hell.

He thinks about attempting to follow the boy – just to make sure he gets treated, of course – but there's absolutely no way he can actually find him. The shy teen was pretty damn fast... perhaps even faster than Izuku who has been playing football for four years and running parcours since he was thirteen.  
Thankfully, his decision is taken care of in the form of the train pulling up to the station. He finds a seat next to one of the windows and lets his reddened cheek rest against the cool glass. Now that the shock has worn off, he feels a stab of guilt and embarrassment in his heart.

At least his reflexes are nothing to joke about if one blends out the fact that he hadn't even noticed the boy before he'd breathily spoken practically into Izuku's ear.

Situational awareness seems to be something he'll learn in Underground Heroics – now, at least, he knows he _needs _those afternoon classes with Aizawa-sensei.

A good quarter hour later, when the freckled youth has stopped looking like a tomato, a robotic voice announces his station will be the next destination. As usual, he stands up sooner than necessary, manoeuvring through the narrow space between the two seat rows. His hand automatically reaches for a pole to steady his equilibrium and large green orbs lazily watch buildings drift past. The train's fast; it'll arrive shortly.

Something prickles in Izuku's neck. At first he pushes it aside but then it becomes stronger.

Unexpectedly, a strange sense of loneliness settles in his stomach... albeit... it comes across differently than a normal feeling. There's something behind him. He knows, he knows, _he knows_ that something is there. Slowly, he shifts from foot to foot, turning ever so slightly to assess the people. A young mother cradles her baby in her arms, gently shushing it while keeping the stroller from rolling off with the tip of her boot. Then, on the other end of the single seat bench facing the train's door, a middle-aged man in dirty blue overalls supports his head with an equally muddied palm. He has his eyes closed so he can't be the one who lets his skin crawl.

Izuku ignores the two or three passengers who stand off to the side, waiting with bored expressions for the train station. He casts them aside because, for a moment, it's as if he looks at the bottom of an ocean. His airways clog, unable to accept oxygen – how should they, how _could _they when he's sinking like a deadweight; down, down into the deepest of seas where no man has ever been before?

Midoriya Izuku is alone. He has always been alone.

"_I'm sorry"_

"_Quirkless? Ew! No wonder your name can be read as Deku!"_

"_He's weird." "Yeah, right? Doesn't even have a quirk."_

"_Midoriya studies again. Well, it's all he ever does." "For what, though? Someone like him can't be a hero."_

"_Izukkun, why do you try so hard to become a hero? With your grades you could be everything else!"_

"_I'm sorry"_

"_I'm sorry"_

"**I'm sorry"**

His body convulses, involuntarily shudders in pure fear. "When I die, I'm dying alone." echoes through his mind like an indoctrinated truth. He has never felt so vulnerable before – utterly at his own panic's mercy, trapped inside his head. Izuku's body betrays him, step by step repelling his determination and will.

However, reality falls into place soon enough. Green eyes frantically search for a sign of bewilderment on the other passengers' visages. No one is disturbed, the peace in this train cart has never been endangered. What a charade. He doesn't want to be pulled into the abyss of loneliness again... but Izuku is a stubborn one. When he knows that there's something terribly wrong he just has to investigate.

The man still doesn't look like much – old, worn, wrinkles caved into the surface of his saggy skin. Though, where black holes used to be are now mind-numbingly normal human eyes. What has happened? Has Izuku imagined the blind fear? Is he going insane? Firstly he injures someone and now he's fantasizing about an old man being... what exactly? A monster? A creature straight out of the worst kinds of horror stories?

He lets his lungs fill with air – sweet, wonderful air – then he slowly exhales. Above him, coming from the speakers, he faintly hears the announcement that he finally (and hasn't it been too long? The time feels so insanely off) can exit the train. The boy's heart still beats harshly against his ribcage, in an even harder pace than it had done after Aizawa-sensei's evaluation.

As soon as the door opens, he bolts out fast. He can't help himself but craning his neck back one last time to see that man.

The stranger is looking directly at Izuku. His eyes crinkle in the mock motion of a genuine smile.

And now he knows that the loneliness isn't a by-product of his fantasy. Because it tries to claw itself into Izuku's brain again. Before it can occur, luckily, the door closes.

He watches the train leave the station. Yes, the incident was very odd. Yes, the old man's quirk was probably just something that activates on its own. Yes, Izuku shouldn't immediately jump to conclusions and interpret the scene as something other than a misunderstanding. But somehow a foreboding, raw voice _screams _in his mind.

It screams that this isn't over yet.

It screams that this has only just begun.

And Izuku can't do anything else than to wander homewards and wish for his instincts to be wrong.

The sun is bright, the sky cloudless and it's early afternoon when the freckled teen fingers the keys for his house out of his pocket.  
"Mom, I'm back!" he calls, carelessly chucking his dark red sneakers in the general direction of the shoe rack and runns his hand once through forest green hair which isn't curly so much as it is plain messy.

"Izukkun!" Inko answers back joyously, stepping out of the kitchen to properly greet her son. Izuku blushes a bit when her gentle arms draw him into a tight embrace. Obviously the woman notices the flustered expression and laughs. "We're not even in public and I'm still managing to embarrass you?"

"No! No... I'm just... I'm out of it today. It's been a weird."

"Come on, sit down and tell me all about UA. How was it? Is it as big inside as it looks outside? Is your teacher nice? Better yet –" she pauses, hope flashing behind her eyes, "are your classmates nice?"

"Eh..." the teenager sits down and decides to unfasten his tie (god, he hates those things – he can't even tie them right or else they'd feel too constricting) and replies: "Well, first of all, the school's really huge. Like – enormous! Even the doors honestly were twice as big as normals ones. And my teacher's _so cool! _It's Eraserhead, mom! I have Eraserhead as my homeroom teacher!"

"The underground hero you like so much?!" Inko intercepts in disbelief.

"Yeah, it's really him! And Present Mic's gonna be my English teacher!" the boy squeals.

"No way!"

"Yes, for real!"

Inko adapts a more concerned face. "A-And your classmates, Izukkun?"

Awkwardly, Izuku clears his throat. "Well... you see... I sort of don't have them anymore?"

She frowns confused. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"They w-were expelled? All nineteen of them?" Izuku scratches his cheek sheepishly, "Aizawa-sensei – Eraserhead, that is – threw them out after they... well, I don't know the reason for some of them but a couple were pretty rude. To me... they were pretty rude to me."

Inko blinks, trying to process the information. Then she huffs. "Good!" she says, "Finally a teacher who actually cares about you!"

"Mom" Izuku rolls his eyes.

"Don't _mom _me, Izukkun. You know it's true – and forgive me my language here – that your middle school teachers were downright shit." Inko fiercely declares, catching Izuku off-guard with the unusual explicitness. She's right, though, the boy silently thinks to himself. Aizawa-sensei _is _better than all of his old teachers combined. It's kind of sad that he can say that with a 99% conviction before he even had his first lesson with the scruffy man.

Another question pulls him back from his musings: "So, how are you going to be taught?"

For a moment, Izuku doesn't quite understand but he catches on soon. "Mostly, I'll stay with class 1-B. Didn't met any of them yet... I hope." The last part is mumbled quietly to himself as he thinks back to the boy with elf ears and indigo hair.

"I'm sure they'll be alright." his mother optimistically states. He shrugs, not really keen on giving the notion any attention right now. Sure, if 1-B's magically any better than the ex-members of 1-A then that's great but otherwise he doesn't want to think about them quite yet when he can live for another eighteen hours in blissful ignorance.

"When's lunch going to be ready?" he asks instead.

His mother suddenly looks at him with an underlying sadness which makes Izuku feel exposed and like a fragile glass figurine.

"In an hour, dear."

Izuku nods sharply, stands up, grabs his backpack and retreats to his room. He lets the bag fall onto the floor after he closes the door and exhales heavily. It's dark in here – only a few rays of sunshine filter through nearly closed blinds. They shine onto some of his All Might merchandise, drawing reflexions on their plastic surfaces.

He unbuttons his jacket and the white shirt underneath until his chest is halfway exposed. Izuku lowers himself on the bureau chair. He grabs a random history book and starts reading on the page where he has left a bookmark last night.

"_Midoriya studies again. Well, it's all he ever does."_

Izuku snorts, lips contorting in a bitter grimace.

"_Well, it's all he ever does."_

What else should he do, though? It's not as if he's ever had any friends to hang out with.


	3. Calm

He wakes up at his desk with his neck bent in an abnormal way so that he's probably going to feel it for a couple of days. Izuku groans, throws a look at the subtle digital clock on his nightstand and stretches his stiff limbs until seemingly every joint cracks at least once.

It's half past five in the morning. He remembers reading until nine after having eaten his mom's meal. The boy must have been more exhausted than he'd thought because he can't recall when he nodded off. A sudden realization courses through his head, making his heart beat faster.

Today, he'll meet another twenty kids who'll probably judge him for what he is.

Shoving the unpleasant fact to the very back of his mind, he retrieves his timetable and reads over the entry for Tuesdays. Homeroom, English, Modern Hero Art History, a double lesson mathematics and then Heroics.

"Heroics" Izuku thinks apprehensively, "I wonder how that's going to be." Will it be like training? Or will it be theory mixed with exercise? In any case, he'll probably be the odd one out – the only one without a quirk.

After stifling a heavy sigh, he tiptoes down the stairs. May as well begin the day by cooking breakfast for his mother and himself. Usually, it's Inko who has to stand up early but today is her day off and Izuku would rather let her enjoy it.

He throws on the rice cooker and fries some eggs. While doing that, he lets his thoughts drift. What has happened the day before? Was it really him just having an odd reaction to his nerves? Or was it more than that? Because, to be quite honest, Izuku doesn't believe he's imagined the ordeal.

Perhaps he should tell Aizawa-sensei the whole story? After all, the man is a professional hero and could look into it...

Izuku shakes his head. No, he's definitely overreacting. It was just an elderly man whose quirk probably, by the looks of it, had something to do with insecurities or fear and it ran rampage because it sensed Izuku's high levels of anxiety. Nobody else was influenced. To go to Eraserhead and waste his time would make him feel incredibly guilty when it most surely was just a weird quirk ordeal.

He flips the eggs one by one before continuing his musings. Izuku always actively follows the news. As a hero in training he has to do so and no newspaper, radio station or news show on TV mentioned a fear-based villain or criminal. "I won't waste Aizawa-sensei's time." he decides firmly.

Only the sounds of faint footsteps lets Izuku look up. His mother, still wearing her usual nightgown, trots towards the stove and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Good morning, dear." she mumbles, undeniably sleep-drunken.

"Morning, mom."

"Oh, you're making breakfast? You didn't have to, dear." Inko says but smiles at her son's thoughtfulness, "How did you sleep?"

Izuku makes a disgruntled face. "At the desk again." he admits.

"Izukkun..." His mother hugs him, drawing circles on his taut back. "Should I give you a massage? Your muscles are really tense and I don't want you to pull something during Heroics."

"How did you -?" The boy doesn't remember his mother ever having read his timetable.

Inko frowns. "You have to work on your attention, dear. You even greeted me yesterday when I took a picture of it."

"Wait, really?"

His mother sighs, fondly shaking her head. "Just sit down and I'll massage you."

Still confused but grateful, Izuku sits down with his back facing his mom.

...

"_It's going to be alright. Don't worry." _Izuku's mother said just as he'd been about to leave the house. Don't worry... yeah, sure. Sure Izuku's not going to worry. Because, obviously, he can completely turn off his tendency to overthink things at will!

...Izuku is not having a great time. Luckily, first of all and before he'll meet his fellow students, he has a homeroom lesson with Aizawa-sensei in class 1-A.

With shaky fingers, he opens his classroom's door. Promptly, when his eyes meet the changed interior, he stills in his tracks. Izuku's jaw drops at the odd sight of two large beanbags, one in obnoxious yellow and another in a deep shade of green, casually sitting on a Persian rug that hasn't been there yesterday either. Every desk but one is gone, leaving the room oddly empty. Izuku is a bit in awe at how big it actually is now that the open space has been made more obvious.

The single desk, situated between the beanbags, isn't a normal classroom desk. Rather, it seems to be one of those round glass tables one expects from a nice small café.

However, the classroom isn't barren. A cart with three jugs filled to the brim with different liquids – coffee, water and orange juice – stands next to a second cart which harbours a ton of books. At first glance, Izuku doesn't recognize any of them but after inching closer and tracing their backs, the green haired boy notices that he has some of them at home. They're largely centred around the topics of crime and justice... well, most are. He wrinkles his forehead in confusion when he spots the famous seven piece long Harry Potter series.

"Ah, I see Mic _did _redecorate." The boy flinches for he hasn't heard his teacher approaching. Izuku hesitantly asks the scruffy man: "Why...?"

Aizawa trots towards the yellow beanbag, unceremoniously letting his body fall into the cushion. There he lies, the expression on his face uncomfortably neutral, and only now he deems it necessary to answer the awkward teenager's question: "I don't have any idea why this man does the things he does."

"Oh..." Izuku scratches his scalp and spontaneously decides to drink a glass of water... or two... or three... maybe four?

His teacher sighs in aggravation. "You don't need to be so goddamn nervous around me, kid."

Izuku quickly interjects: "It's not you!" he winces at the speed and volume but continues to explain: "It's just... I-I'm kinda not too thrilled about today. If you know what I mean." Aizawa just stares at him. "B-But I don't know... perhaps my mom's right and they will be better than, well, 1-A. Just – I'm not sure about it! What if they aren't going to accept me? What if they dislike me? Oh god, I sound childish... anyways, what I mean is that I'm very unsure a-and... yes." The boy empties another glass, relishing in the short relief of fresh water pouring down his dry throat.

"So, basically, you are afraid of Mic's class." Aizawa states.

"Y-Yes?"

The man nods once and then points towards the green beanbag. "Sit down, Midoriya. We're going to do an exercise. I don't want you to throw up in half an hour."

"Exercise?" Izuku is a little sceptic – thus far, no amount of forcing himself to calm down actually worked and he usually just accepts that he has to inevitably face his anxiety head on to do short of anything at all. He walks to the avocado-looking thing and, unlike Aizawa-sensei, slowly sinks down into the plush surface... the beanbag tries to swallow him whole.

Aizawa lowers his mouth into his capture gear but Izuku thinks he can see a smirk on the man's face.

"Yes, exercise. Oh, well, you could also call it meditation. Close your eyes and try not to think of anything at all." Aizawa instructs.

The greenette frowns in confusion. "Not to think of anything at all? _How_?" he demands unsurely.

"Doesn't your head _ever _shut up?" Judging from the man's incredulous tone, Izuku's predicament isn't something he's had to personally deal with. Izuku fiddles with his bottom lip and tries his hardest to actually remember a time when his mind wasn't constantly giving him information to work with or just rambling nonsensical bits in a breakneck fast pace.

He... can't. "No? I... I don't think so to be honest."

"Hmm" Aizawa nods, "I understand. Then we will take advantage of your imagination. First of all, close your eyes as I said."

This time, Izuku follows his teacher's order. He snaps his eyes shut and sinks a little bit further into the plush underneath him.

"Let's start by making a landscape inside your mind. Imagine a forest. The trees are close to each other and you can see it's early summer by how green the leaves are. Can you do that? Can you see it?"

It doesn't take long for Izuku to see large, detailed tree trunks surrounding him. They are healthy and through the thicket of bright green – a tone that isn't all too different from his mother's hair – the sun shines down onto the typical brownish ground. Automatically, he nods when he hears Aizawa's question.

"Fine. You stand there in the forest; your nose smells the plants and your ears hear a quiet but steady river. How's the weather?"

"...Sunny. It's hot."

"Ah, yes. It is. A couple of birds are chirping and when you turn towards the sound, you see two robins perched on a thick branch."

Izuku listens to the description and, as if his mind agreed with whatever Aizawa-sensei tells him, he suddenly perceives the birds as well. They're to his right and he can spot their characteristics – their orange-red, grey and white plumage, their small black beaks and beady eyes. Although, for a single moment, they're completely still, waiting for the boy to finish his scrutiny. Then, as soon as Izuku is done with analyzing their appearances (why do they seem so incredibly real? Has he always been able to recall things with this much detail?), the robins happily begin moving and singing a song to each other.

To his left, where used to be nothing but wood, is Aizawa. Or, no... It's Eraserhead. The hero wears his costume, goggles obscuring his red eyes (they're red when he uses his quirk; his hair dances in the windless air) and outfit not any different from his casual clothes. Does he even wear anything else?

"Robins aren't the only animals around." Eraserhead explains, mouth forming the words in sync with his voice, "If you look ahead, you may be able to spot a deer." A deer?

Izuku's vision catches a motion, leaves rustling as the animal slightly inches closer to the humans. His breath catches in his throat. Never before has he seen such a beautiful creature – its white mottled fur looks so smooth and soft that Izuku can imagine how nice it would be to touch it, doll-like dark eyes watch him closely and the deer's ears are pointed in an angle upwards. "It's adorable." Izuku says awestruck.

"It is. Now look around, memorize everything you see so that you're able to recall this place any time. This is your place, your safe place. How do you feel?"

Izuku doesn't even have to think before he blurts out: "Calm."

"Then remember your calmness. Remember the peace, the quiet, remember everything you can perceive. Make it yours." Eraserhead speaks, his figure slowly fading as Izuku follows his orders. _Make it yours. This is mine. This calmness belongs to me._

Aizawa gives him time to process. To be frank, he's astonished by how well this spontaneous thing worked and he hopes the problem child will use it to better his anxiousness. He knows anxiety is tricky and definitely won't disappear by creating a peaceful landscape... but it's a start, at least, if nothing else.

The classroom's clock tells the scruffy man they still have about fifteen minutes left until Midoriya meets class 1-B. There's no doubt in Aizawa's mind that yesterday's occurrences have put a damper on the teenager's willingness for that ordeal. However, his student's just going to have to deal with it – babying him wouldn't do any good for somebody who wants to be a quirkless hero.

"When you're done, you can open your eyes."

Two seconds later, the boy's much calmer eyes meet his. "That was..." Izuku struggles to find the right word, not wanting to sound too grateful or kitschy, "...helpful. Thanks, sensei."

Aizawa hums in agreement. "No things are for free, though. Gimme a cup of coffee."

Izuku chuckles before he notices his teacher's expression. The man is serious. He stands up and does as instructed while Aizawa musters his only student, thinking to himself: "I'm glad something I pulled out of my ass worked so well." Midoriya definitely doesn't need to know he had absolutely no idea how to deal with the boy's problem – that's Hizashi's forte anyways.

He accepts the mug and both of them spend the rest of their homeroom in companionable silence.

The bell rings sooner than either of them expects it to but Izuku doesn't mind, actually. Now that he isn't nervously awaiting his doom, the anticipation from the day before yesterday settles in. He doesn't even truly think about the teenager whose nose he had broken some odd hours ago. If the boy is in 1-B, he only has it easier to apologize to him.

Izuku heads out, leaving behind the cosy hideout and walks to the great door with 1-B on it. A sense of déjà-vu makes him smile a bit. Hopefully, nobody shoves him into the blackboard today. His fingers fly through his messy hair and he inhales deeply before entering.

1-B, here he comes!


	4. Oddity

The first things Izuku sees are small groups of people chatting with each other and some loners sitting at their desks with blank expressions, tipping fast on mobile phones that look either really expensive or dirt cheap. It's the exact same experience as yesterday.

But nobody notices the single 1-A student in the front of the classroom and Izuku feels like air – as if he's even more see-through than the ghost girl in the first row who chats with a pink haired and eyed boy... he goes by unnoticed.

The scene makes him look back into the past. It's not some sort of special memory or a single occurrence. Instead, Izuku remembers a dull pain in his chest that, day by day – sometimes even second by second, would grow and nourish. He recalls overhearing people talking about their meet-ups with their friends and what they did on their weekends. He recalls wanting to be a part of it so badly but never even trying after the first couple of half-assed excuses of why he wasn't invited when seemingly everyone else was.

Whether they are ignoring him deliberately or just haven't noticed him yet doesn't matter as the remembrance of those times still makes him retreat to the empty chair near the teacher's desk that's so obviously his because it stands out like a sore thumb, without attempting to strike a conversation with anybody.

Izuku is glad when the bell announces the start of English. The students don't have to wait long until a dishevelled Present Mic, carrying various utensils and, simultaneously, balancing a cup of coffee, strides into the room. He's less dramatic about it than one would think and his hero outfit is one of the only things that's the same when comparing this Mic to the exuberant one Izuku had seen at his entrance exam – for example, he doesn't show the usual enthusiastic grin he dons when talking to an audience. Also, he's careful when setting down his stuff as to not cause a big ruckus, Izuku presumes.

"GOOD MORNING, MY PRECIOUS PEOPLE!"

The teenager flinches. Okay, maybe Present Mic is just always Present Mic and Izuku is only interpreting things into useless observations... that's most likely the case.

"Good morning, Mic-sensei." the class drones back, letting a frown appear on the professional hero's face.

"A little bit more enthusiastic, COME ON! 3 – 2 – 1!"

"GOOD MORNING, MIC-SENSEI!" the sound of twenty-one very mismatched and not at all in sync voices echoes through the room. What a cacophony – something Izuku would never want to hear again – but, apparently, it's music in Mic-sensei's ears (which lets Izuku question his English teacher's hearing) because he flashes them a joyful thumbs up. "GREAT!" he adds to that, "What a nice way to start the morning. Tooooday! We! Will! Look! At! Our! Curriculum! _ARE YOU READY?!_"

"YEEEAH!" the students roar and a small, impish smirk forms at Mic-sensei's mouth corner.

"_They got played." _Izuku thinks sheepishly, watching his teacher start the projector. A presentation is shown and immediately, the green haired boy wants to groan. Ugh, what a bore. Izuku knows most things on the list, as far as he can tell, and he already _is _rather fluent in the English language. That's honestly one of the few things he's glad about when it comes to not having friends. Now, though, he wants to turn back time and erase the idea of using the English side of the internet.

How can he live through a full year of gathering information that's already inscribed in his brain? He fidgets in his seat when, after half an hour, words wants to form on his lips. So far, Izuku's been able to hold back that annoying muttering habit of his but without anything to focus on, the risk of it breaking out of control is much higher.

Although he suppresses the flow successfully, a small squeak nonetheless leaves his throat. Oh god. The class is quiet, now completely, and Present Mic turns around. "Eh?" he asks, eyebrows drawn up nearly to his hairline. Izuku sinks into his chair. Shit, shit, shit, abort mission. Abort mission! What mission?! It doesn't matter, just abort it! That doesn't make any sense. Shut up, shut up, _shut up..._

"_Shut up!" _Izuku squeals uncontrollably, in English – of course, gotta stay in the lesson-used language after all.

Mic-sensei blinks. Izuku's mouth remains agape, a helpless look appearing on his face. Some of the other students start to snicker, murmuring things to their desk neighbours. Finally, Izuku's able to pick up his dropped jaw and, simultaneously, the blond hero's lips form a bright grin as recognition flickers through his eyes. "See, class?! _THAT'S THE SPIRIT, 1A-BOY!_" Said 1A-Boy splutters when Mic motions for him to come to the front. Nonetheless, he shuffles closer to the radio host. Mic calls into the room: "May I introduce to you: Midoriya Izuku, the entirety of class 1-A! I was a bit frazzled today that's why I forgot to mention it but luckily, Midoriya-kun reminded me to _shut the hell up _to finally tell you _what the freak's goin' on, YEAH!_"

Izuku tries to throw in: "No, that's really not what I-" but Mic silences him, continuing his Introduction of Epic ProportionsTM: "This little guy here went into battle with a frying pan and a baseball bat in the entrance exam! He's the only one who survived Eraser's evaluation – AND HE DOESN'T EVEN HAVE A QUIRK, HE'S CRAZY!"

If there's ever been one time Izuku contemplates on becoming a villain instead of a hero, it's right in this moment. He looks at his teacher in a similar manner as Aizawa-sensei the day before when the man's heard Ryokin Roru's reasoning skills.

"No quirk?!" Ah, there it goes, his will to live.

"T... That's so FUNKY – I'm gonna GO WILD!"

"How the fuck did he KO robots with a frying pan?" "The guy's already a blast, I can tell ya that!"

At least they're not A) threatening him, B) questioning his worth or C) doubting his success. That doesn't mean it isn't slightly intimidating to have nearly a whole class' attention directed solely at him. "I-I'm not that great, really guys!" he stutters uncomfortably when the exclamations slowly die down and they start eyeing him, expecting some sort of statement from him.

"ALAS! Don't suffocate the poor dude! Oh, the lesson's ending! _SEE YOU TOMORROW, YEAH!" _

Present Mic leaves Izuku to fend for himself – which is a pretty bold move in and of itself but gets even bolder when he throws a wink at the startled Midoriya before heading off to who knows where. "What an asshole" the boy thinks as most people zero in on him. Some of them stand up to walk towards him – and... nope, Izuku's not going to let that happen. With all the might of someone who has spent nearly three years doing parcours, he sprints out of the classroom, adrenaline rushing through his body as he meanders in a breakneck speed around unassuming UA students. His destination is clear – the boy's toilettes on the very same floor.

Only when the lock clicks close behind him and Izuku's sitting fully clad on a cheap toilet lid that's bending under the weight of his rear, he realizes what he's done. "Ugh" he groans shamefully, hiding his heated face in his palms, "That's the worst reaction I could have had. What are they gonna think of me?! Oh god, I'll be known as an antisocial weirdo! Not only that but I also badmouthed a _pro hero _who didn't even do anything – I'm the worst at this! The absolute worst! Maybe Aizawa-sensei is going to expel me when he hears about this... I can't believe I've done this... I'm a piece of dirt – not even the good nourishing dirt where plants can grow, no! I'm the driest, ugliest, clumpiest piece of dirt out there. The dirtiest dirt in the entire universe! The-"

A knock on the stall door. "Um, are you alright?" _No_, Izuku wants to reply, _I'm not nor have I ever been alright_. But because that would be really dramatic (and he's trying to avoid drama – even though he's caught up in so damn much of it already) the Midoriya answers croakily: "Y-Yeah, I've never been finer before!" and promptly wants to bury himself in a thick layer of sand. _"I've never been finer before?!" _he asks himself quietly, grimacing at the cheesy line.

"Well then... I'll trust you on that." the other boy says, his tone betraying that he does, in fact, most probably not trust Izuku on that. However, it seems recess is about to end because the mess in the stall (also known as Midoriya Izuku) listens the stranger's footsteps becoming fainter until they can't be heard anymore.

Then the bell rings. Izuku is officially too late for Modern Hero Art History taught by Midnight. ...Taught by Midnight. His eyes widen. "Oh shit" he curses, sprinting out of the restroom, leaving behind his anxiety (just like Present Mic left him behind – he's not going to forget or forgive the man for that soon). Midnight, he knows, always has a cat-o-nine-tails with her and he doesn't want to risk being the first victim to receive her wrath.

...

After a... very interesting introduction to the subject of Modern Hero Art History, Izuku's relieved when the double lessons of mathematics afterwards prove to be demanding – demanding enough that his brain is focused on the task rather than on something else.

And Izuku absolutely relishes in it. He smiles throughout the entirety of those two hours (and thinks Ectoplasm-sensei may look a bit disturbed when he gazes in his direction to see that he's still smiling). Sadly, lunch break arrives sooner than he would have liked. Izuku is the first one out of the room, still inclined on not speaking to anyone – especially after his breakdown on the toilet. It could very well be, after all, that the other boy was somebody from his class. Concerning that topic, Izuku's just glad that the one who received his fist the day before isn't in 1-B.

He stumbles upon an empty corner, shielded from an outsider's perspective, and huddles into it like the pathetic childish wannabe hero he is – his self-esteem has been declining ever since he opened his mouth in English. Today, he thinks as he unpacks his mom's homemade bento box, is not his day. Sighing deeply, he shakes his head again at the thought of all of the messed up interactions he's lived through in the last... what was it?... five hours.

Izuku closes his eyes when his fingers begin trembling and the need to chuck himself out of the window becomes too much to bear.

He remembers Aizawa-sensei's little meditation exercise. Yeah, that forest looks good – green, fresh, smells nice – yes, and that deer is still adorable and yes, the two robins chirp happily. After repeatedly checking on these things captured inside his previously constructed mental landscape, he can at least eat his lunch without feeling like he's going to barf it all over the place.

The food is delicious and, he takes a look at his phone, he still has about half an hour until his first Heroics lessons with Vlad King. When the bento box lies emptily next to him, he notes he has finally calmed down entirely. It needs a bit of time for him to adapt. And, well, it's going to be no different from then on. No different from his elementary or middle school experiences social-wise. Izuku usually fucks something up in the first few days (be it merely being quirkless or hella awkward) and now that it's over (hopefully) he feels his neutrality settle in. In a way, he's glad nothing is going to change. He knows how this works. He knows only his determination will accompany him on his task of becoming a great hero. It's always been like this.

He allows himself a small grin that doesn't reach his eyes – but the anxiety of meeting new people, of being put in a completely strange class (twice! That was the crux of it all, to be honest) is slowly but surely backing off. And that's all that counts. Soon, he'll be his old, quiet self again.

That may be for the best, he muses, untangling his headphone cable and then tuning in to his 'I-Want-To-Be-Hyped' playlist until he has to walk to Heroics.

...

"Ooooh" Izuku is in love. Forget everything that has occurred up until this point because Izuku _is in love_. He touches his hero costume again, getting a feel for it and notices, once again, that he is in _l o v e_. "I think I want to marry whoever made you." the boy says, fastening his weapons on the designated belt. He finally has actual weapons and not a shitty ten year old frying pan and a baseball bat his mom has found on sale at the sports gear shop. Actual weapons!

Well, weapons which are allowed in a school like this in his first year, to be fair. Which means that he now wields another baseball bat (made of rubber but with little, not entirely sharp spikes on its end), a knife and a really strong rope. He counts it as a weapon due to the fact that he could strangle someone with it... not that he's going to.

Izuku throws his hood and the black face mask as well as the red tinted goggles on and takes a look at the mirror. Yes. He's definitely going to marry the designer of his hero costume.

"Woah, dude. You look like a ninja!" says a pink haired boy – one of the few students who are not done with putting their costumes on yet. So far, what Izuku sees of it is... underwhelming. A grey jumpsuit with a pink belt – no extras, nothing else.

"Oh, thanks." Izuku mumbles, surprised at the sudden praise. He fiddles with the hem of his black outfit (only a few red and white accents here and there) and doesn't quite know what to do.

"No, no, no! Really, look at you. I just have this thing here... it's kind of... Ah, I'm Nagare Kokoro, by the way." The guy wants to shake Izuku's hand (how western). Warily, the greenette takes it, shakes it... shakes it far too long. Oh, how long is it acceptable to shake someone's hand anyways? He's pretty sure he should have put it down a couple of seconds ago. Okay, now it's getting weird.

Kokoro stifles a laugh. "This is getting out of hand." he remarks cleverly but isn't letting go of Izuku's hand either.

Izuku snorts, replying: "A guide on handshakes would be handy."

"At least you're a handsome fella."

"Oh, now you're being a bit of a handful."

The spell is broken by another voice shouting: "KOOOOOKOOOO?" Nagare lets go, giving him a friendly wave before searching for the guy who's shouted his name. Izuku rubs his hand. Did he befriend someone? Is this friendship? Has he calmed down too soon? Is there going to be more of those unknown interactions waiting for him?

Haha, ha, haaaa... his anxiety strikes back. And he just accepted his fate, too! What the -? Ah, there's nothing he can do about it now. Izuku leaves the locker and sees the rest of 1-B. They look very heroic. The ghost girl is wearing a pirate outfit – interesting.

Nagare has fun with a tall dark skinned boy – they laugh. The dubbed 'Koko' points at his hand and then rather unsubtly at Izuku – they laugh again.

"Oh, okay" the quirkless boy thinks, not even mad at being made fun of. "No friendship then."

Vlad King looks over the group and nods appreciatively. "Welcome to Heroics! I'm Sekijirou Kan, also known as Vlad King. Is everyone here?" He counts, nodding once more, "Good, we're going to start with a small introduction – safety rules, how to use communicators and so on!" He proceeds by doing exactly that. Izuku listens closely, trying to remember everything. It's important because afterwards, when they're done with the basics, the pro hero smirks.

"Now that that's out of the way – let's divide you into groups of three."

Izuku has to swallow; his throat is dry, maybe he should have had a bit more water.

Their sensei takes a box out of his backpack. "I have written down your names here and will let luck decide." Yeah, that's not a good idea most of the time.

...

... Izuku finds himself in a group with two girls who glare daggers at each other.

Help?


	5. Snap, the First

With an expression of pure smugness, their Heroics teacher stretches out his arm and presses a button on some sort of remote control. An enormous black panel, which Izuku has honestly just interpreted as a differently designed part of the wall, slides up smoothly to reveal an ordinary window. Well, what's behind the window is certainly not that ordinary, Izuku realizes with a start, because as it turns out, the city behind the glass isn't real. No cars drive through its streets, no civilians wander around to liven up the space and it's completely tinted in the tell-tale off-white of cement. _"Cementoss' work!" _he thinks impressed.

"So these are the famous UA training facilities. Just like in the entrance exam..." the Midoriya whispers excitedly, awed at the sheer size of things here at his school. He blends the others out, muttering just as rapidly as he's musing: "The exact measurements aren't known to the general public but I read that there are around eight vastly varying battle simulation grounds. Oh, shit, I'm so hyped (not only thanks to my playlist for once in my life)! I wonder what the exercise's going to be about. I hope it's going to include the architectural structure – oh, for fuck's sake, who am I kidding? Of course sensei's gonna have the structure play an integral part in it! Either it'll probably be a death match or - ah." Someone clears their throat... instantly, Izuku becomes aware of the silence that engulfs him like a heavy blanket. He awkwardly shuffles around, directing his attention back to Vlad King who has his eyebrows raised at him. "...Um. Sorry, sensei."

"Riiiight" the pro says slowly, "as Midoriya explained: This is one of our famous training grounds. Here at UA, we follow the motto of 'Plus Ultra' in every aspect... and it shows in our expenses." the last part is quieter but not enough for them not to pick up on it. Izuku sweat-drops – his teachers don't really mince their words, do they?

The hero continues: "In this city, we are going to have two team fights. The first round with four teams and the second with three. Not _quite _a death match, Midoriya." he gives Izuku a wink. The boy holds back a small groan. Is this becoming a second Present Mic situation? Luckily, no. Vlad King reads his student's exasperation, thus, goes back to his explanations seconds after the quick jab: "The objective is to incapacitate the other teams. The winning teams of round one and two then compete in a randomized one versus one. There are three winners overall in the end – mainly because we don't have time to drag it out even further. Simple, right?" A couple of hero hopefuls hesitantly agree. "NO, ABSOLUTELY NOT SIMPLE!"

Some – those who are in the front row, to be precise – shrink back at the sudden aggressive exclamation. One even flinches so hard that his sunglasses fall off and he grasps his heart in shock. Vlad King barks out a laugh. "Sorry, that came out louder than I wanted it to." he apologizes. "It isn't as simple as it sounds. You'll have a time limit of thirty minutes and if _one _of your team is captured, the whole team loses." some murmurs go through the crowd but the teacher ignores them, "Well, let's once again randomly decide which teams will compete against each other."

Izuku takes the time to get a good look at his teammates. A very tall girl with long dark blue hair adorns the palest skin he's ever seen a human have. Black lipstick, black leggings, black boots and a black long sleeve shirt – honestly, this much black makes her seem a bit intimidating. Said intimidation really comes through in the manner in which she stares at their third member – another girl but stockier than the first, in a tomboyish outfit, smaller and with glowing yellow eyes and black, messy, kind of short hair that reminds Izuku a little bit of his own. Shorty meets the first one's glare head-on. Their gaze exchange is loaded with simmering disgust. Cool, totally. It's not as if Izuku would have actually wanted a functioning team or something.

"-and Midoriya, Sorahoshi and Haiken in the first round. You will have fifteen minutes to discuss strategies. Aaaaand – go!"

Okay. Izuku can totally somehow wing this. He heads to the two girls who haven't ceased their visual dagger stabbing. "Hello" he tries and gets an offended growl by the black haired one for his efforts. "Guys, I really think we should-"

"Shut up, Midokiwi or whatever." the short one spits out. That one truly can't stand him, huh? He only then realizes his butchered name. _"K-Kiwi?!" _

"It's Midoriya, ash bitch." the other one hisses. Ah, at least she knows he isn't a furry fruit. Small victories. _Very, very, very _small victories.

"I don't fucking care, boyfriend stealing whore!"

"_Oh, bloody... _That _is what it's about?!" _the boy internally screams. UA is apparently no sanctuary that prevents him from unwillingly stumbling into the 10th circle of hell – Teenage Relationships.

"_I_ am the boyfriend stealer?! What about _your_ shameless flirting?! What about _your_ pathetic little tries to get him back? He obviously likes me more if he decides to leave your sorry ass for me!" the tall girl – presumably Sorahoshi – roasts Haiken with as much attitude as you'd expect.

Momentarily, the fronted one doesn't move, just grits her teeth in blindingly hot anger and her eyes grow into slits.

"_Aizawa-sensei would have kicked both of their asses out"_ Izuku deadpans internally. (Can you _blame _him? He just wants peace and quiet for, like, three seconds. How about that, huh?!)

Then, Haiken _moves_ and Izuku has to jump back to avoid the following quirk outburst. As it turns out, the 'eyes turn into slits' thing has to be taken in a more literal context as Haiken's quirk is controlling a gigantic snake made of ash that's slowly drizzling to the ground but nonetheless holds its shape. Good to know – would have definitely helped in their team fight... if, you know, she hadn't just attacked one of her own classmates with it.

Slowly but surely, the green haired boy loses his respect for 1-B too (firstly, Present Mic's abandonment; secondly, the handshake-friendship-start that wasn't the start of a friendship at all and now _this_.). Well, okay, Izuku's just salty because wherever he looks, he sees teams corresponding with each other just fine. It _has _to be his team that's the fluke.

Sorahoshi fights back – of course she does. A hail of small, spiky (iron?) stars shoot out of her palm, acting as a shield against the snake.

And Vlad King just _watches _them go at it.

"Guys." Izuku attempts to break the tension.

Nothing. Naturally, his pleas fall on deaf ears.

"Guys, please." he tries again. This time it's a little bit more forceful and louder. Nope, neither one of the girls show any reaction to him. He's air for them. Their petty fight is more important than their future, than their hero careers. His arms dangle next to his sides uselessly. Haiken and Sorahoshi couldn't care less about the consequences of their bitching. They simply don't give a shit. How did they get into the _most _prestigious heroics school in the whole country with their lack of care?! Izuku lets out a breath he didn't know he held.

_This is fucking unfair_ is the thought that crosses his mind. _How can they?_

_How __**dare **__they?!_

Something's stuck in his throat and with a start, he notices it isn't anxiety. It isn't fear. It isn't even despair. No, it's pure, unadulterated **wrath**.

Izuku remembers then - the daily pains, the insane amount of motivation he had to pull out of nowhere to somehow live through _three _extracurricular activities, each of which he attends not once but _twice _a week even now that he is a part of UA. He recalls the disbelieving stares, the whispers followed by giggles they thought he didn't hear, when his middle school homeroom teacher asked him if he really wanted to try out for the Heroics Course.

"_I have no doubt you would get into General Education, Management or even Support just fine – but Heroics? You're quirkless, Midoriya."_ a sneer on his face (a sneer that belongs to Izuku alone; he smiles for the others, encourages their dreams. Not for Izuku – it's always a sneer for him),_ "It's a stupid idea, boy." _Never once had he truly bothered to assess Izuku's strengths – he'd seen the grades and his status that has marked him as someone he thought was not worth his time. As so many had done before.

He honestly compliments himself for not faltering at that critical moment. Everybody else would have internalized it, let the doubts fester and would have finally caved in after years of collected fears and self-worth doubts. But Izuku? Izuku went ahead and replied with a smile on his face (that didn't reach his eyes – why should it? Why should he show genuineness when nobody else does?!): _"I'm sure about it, sensei."_

And then he'd gone ahead and simply _done _it. That quirkless, creepily mumbling, anxious, friendless kid from a slightly worse than average middle school had been admitted into UA, the alma mater for students who desire to become heroes.

Midoriya Izuku has always had to fight for his dreams and now it's no different. He didn't oppose others' well-meant but ill advises every single day this hard just to let two girls, who can't put aside their useless drama, trample over his achievements. How are they going to act on their duty? Will they let a helpless citizen die right in front of them just because they're unable to let their differences rest? Izuku has to put his anxiety away too. And that is difficult as hell for somebody who over-thinks like there's no tomorrow.  
Steeling himself for what he's about to do, he thinks of a beautiful deer, of two robins, of a inner patch of peace _nobody_ can rob him of before he inhales deeply and-

"SHUT UP AND CONCENTRATE! THIS ISN'T A FREAKING PLAYGROUND, IDIOTS!" ** s**.

Oops, that was a bit too loud - he thinks he made the guy with the sunglasses have a heart attack. At least they're paying him attention now. Everybody is. Wow, alright, is it too late to flee to the toilet again? Yeah? Shit. Izuku swallows down the bubbling hot embarrassment.

"We're going to make a battle plan now. Forget about the boyfriend bullshit - you _do _want to become respectable heroines, right?" Where does this strength in his voice come from? Izuku sure as hell doesn't have a clue but he's glad for its sudden appearance.

Sorahoshi and Haiken nod... and... do they look a bit shaken?

Izuku can't bring himself to look into their faces for long anyways. "Right. We have used up two thirds of the planning period already. However, I already have a couple of wonky ideas in my head. We can win this. We can do this. If you cooperate. CAN. YOU. COOPERATE?" He lets out his residue anger with this last shouted question.

The girls answer in unison: "YES!"

Izuku will have to know the basics before coming up with more than general ideas. So he asks casually: "What exactly are your quirks?"

Sorahoshi's face scrunches up. "Eh... I can create marble-sized metal stars. They can be used offensively but they also have a really weird side affect – they burn like hell when they touch skin."

The boy doesn't yet say anything, just motions for Haiken to take her turn.

She shrugs. "I can make ash snakes. Maximum is two large ones, three medium ones or ten tiny ones. They lemme feel when they're destroyed. Large ones do a decent amount of damage, small ones not so much."

Izuku's face lights up. "Wait, wait, wait! You can feel when they're destroyed? What does that entail? Are you able to feel their whereabouts and what kind of damage they took when they were killed?"

Her eyes widen at the questions – she looks a bit astonished that her classmate would consider something like that. "Yeah, I know which ones are destroyed and where... also how. I kinda have an overall flashback in my mind of their last few seconds."

"Really? That sounds like there's an ability that should let you... ah, shit, we don't have time for this." Izuku halts, "Ten small snakes, huh?" his grin is covered by the black mask but the girls see how the corners of his eyes crinkle, "I know what we'll do with them."

Conspiringly, the freckled teenager leans in, whisperingly laying his tactics out. The girls thankfully listen attentively and bring in their own two cents.

Before long, a loud "Planning time's up!" is shouted by Vlad-sensei who then motions them closer.

Ugh, Izuku rubs the back of his hooded head; he just hopes they can at least win one team fight. It would be a shame if they lost against the first three random people they come across. Ah, at least they have a solid base.

Each one of them gets a communicator pressed in their hands. They are easy to understand if one paid attention to Vlad King's instructions at the beginning of the lesson – which means Izuku needs to do an impromptu tutorial for Sorahoshi and Haiken. When that's out of the way, their teacher stems his balled fists in his waist and pulls off an intimidating assertion: "For the love of UA's budget and Powerloader's sanity do _not _destroy them! Or else..." he stops in right in the middle of the threat, leaving it ominously open for interpretation. The students nod in unison.

"Good." He leads them to a long hallway which ends in a massive black garage door that he opens by letting his eyes be scanned on a compact inbuilt computer panel. Izuku's reminded of a couple of sci-fi films he's watched during his childhood – yes, he does do fun stuff every once in a while, thank you very much.  
There's a broad metal staircase leading them to the foot of the city. "Now you'll get another five minutes to hide, prepare, whatever. I'll give you a signal when the exercise starts. The rest of us will go to the observers' room back there. Good luck, everyone! And remember: If you're thinking about destroying the equipment – don't!" Vlad King's white-red gloved hand waves them goodbye as he takes a little less than half of the student with him.

Haiken motions for her teammates to go ahead while the others are still looking after their teacher. Izuku nods in comprehension and, to Sorahoshi's credit, she doesn't utter a word against it. As fast as they can, the three of them run through the fake city's streets, zigzagging in case someone tries to keep up with them. After a while, the taller girl finds a nook where they can hide for the moment.

"Right" Izuku whispers, "Which plan do you think we should try?"

"B" Haiken says quietly, her boyish voice sounding a lot softer that way, "'Cause the streets are a bit too narrow for A and the city's too small in general for C. You got anything against it?" Her yellow orbs – pupils now gone back to black dots – fixate challengingly on Sorahoshi whose black tinted lips grow into a snarl. Izuku prepares to intervene... but nothing happens. Sorahoshi shakes her head sharply.

The boy exhales in relief. "Okay, um – B, huh? Fifty metre radius should be enough. We don't wanna be too far from each other."

"True. I'm on it." Haiken replies whilst creating very small ash snakes – exactly ten, to be precise. ("God, they are cute a-and so _smol_" Izuku thinks in private.) Then they begin their quest. They form a circle with their adorable little heads facing outwards and slither away quickly. Izuku hopes he'll be able to spot them in time if the plan comes to fruition.

"I will start on the production. Midoriya, give us a call when you see someone. Regardless of the snakes, it'll help us prepare ourselves for possible combat." Sorahoshi murmurs just loud enough for them to hear her. Izuku nods, checks his costume once more - goggles on, hood on, facemask in place, baseball bat, knife and rope ready to be drawn, the Velcro strips on his boots are all fastened to give him the optimal security for running. He's ready.

"See you later. Bye!" He doesn't wait for their answers. Instead, he speeds away, jumping easily up a wall that parts two alleyways. Izuku's seen one of the snakes climb it without any problems. It's best to put as many barriers between his teammates and himself to protect them until their respective tasks come into play.

Now he just needs to find someone.

...

Haiken and Sorahoshi kneel next to each other, their previous tryst forgotten in the light of their mission. Midoriya is out there, hopping around like a complete idiot – which is, naturally, part of their plan. Said plan has six steps but is rather simple in nature.

Sorahoshi and Haiken hide in circa the middle of the area and while the former starts producing massive amounts of her stars, the later lets her ten snakes spread in a radius of around fifty metres.

Izuku acts as bait. Despite the rest of 1-B knowing that he achieved first position in the entrance exam, they probably are still likely inclined to underestimate him because he's quirkless.

When the Midoriya catches the attention of a person or even a whole team (leading them to hunting him down), he sprints towards the closest snake and destroys it with a kick, signalizing his whereabouts to the girls.

Haiken dissipates the rest of the snakes too and instead conjures up a large one that has Sorahoshi's premade stars incorporated (something they tried out on a much smaller scale during prep time).

The girls ride on the snake to Izuku's destination (which they're able to do because Haiken can make parts of the snake denser and distribute the weighty mass of metal stars to the bottom section of the snake whilst keeping the top... well, 'clean' is a wrong word as it's still ash but, you know, clean enough to sit on and not being hurt by Sorahoshi's stars.)

When they meet up, Haiken's snake's going to destroy everyone. (Hopefully.)

Sorahoshi hisses, the strain of quirk overuse makes her palms feel heavy like lead. She bites through it. They are counting on her. Midoriya is counting on her – Midoriya, whose eyes were so venomous and at the same time lifeless when he screamed at Haiken and her. Midoriya, who's quirkless and yet took the first place in the exam that led to him becoming a student at UA. Midoriya, who is the only one in their parallel class – something that startles her greatly. Why him? Why not one of the nineteen others? Why is it that it's the one without powers who could secure his position? There's more to Midoriya than meets the eye; more to the plain-faced freckled boy with heavy anxiety issues. And that boy is counting on her.

Sorahoshi Shimiru isn't one to let the people that are counting on her down. Midoriya reminded her of her goal.

So, despite the pain – an uncomfortable ache which numbs her palms, lets her fingers become unbendable and prickles like needles along the entire length of her arms – she endures.

Shimiru remembers.

"_My tiny star, you may not have me at your side in the future but I know..." _

Shimiru's eyes sting. Haiken's mouth opens. However, before a sour remark can cut through the silence, a single pained sob beats her to the punch. The snake girl averts her gaze.

And Shimiru remembers.

"_... you're going to be a great hero! You're my little sister, after all. I hope you will forgive me for leaving you alone." _

For what would she have endangered her dream? For a little bit of attention (attention she craves so very much – attention that temporarily fills the void) from a disinterested boyfriend who never writes back anyways? She smiles bitterly while teardrops cloud her vision and her arms are shaking more and more each second.

"**Um... I think I spotted someone. Make yourselves ready." **Midoriya's voice can be heard through the communicator. She barely notices it.

Three seconds later: "Sorahoshi." Haiken hisses, "It's time."

Shimiru nods. A relieved sigh leaves her lips when she stops the steady stream of stars. Grimly satisfied, she notes that the pile in front of her is nearly as high as she is tall. The other girl's snake incorporates it hungrily. Shimiru's heart beats faster in anticipation when she takes a seat on the ash creature's back, right behind Haiken. "Hold on tight!" the black haired one says with an impish smirk.

Only a moment later, Shimiru understands why. The snake is fast – incredibly fast... in fact: "OH GOD, SLOW DOWN! WE'RE GONNA CRASH!" There's a wall. And they're heading right towards it. At a _breakneck _speed.

Haiken's shoulders shake but she doesn't answer. Wind blows into Shimiru's light blue eyes, carrying her tears with it. In desperation, she ducks her head into Haiken's neck. And then...

...and then the ash snake **wrecks **the barrier.

Shimiru gasps in relief, her long dark blue hair flying into her face when she deems it safe to look up again. She still holds onto the other girl's waist.  
The tremble in Haiken's shoulders grows stronger and... and she starts _cackling madly. _Shimiru blinks. Faintly, she realizes they're still moving. However, that doesn't matter. One single thing reaches her senses – her ears, to be precise – and it's Haiken Mamushi's absolutely insane laughter... the way her whole body shudders with it, the way she snorts every once in a while, the way it sounds like a dorky witch's.

Redness blossoms on Shimiru's pale cheeks. She tries to avoid looking at Haiken... instead, what her eyes land on is the red hem of Haiken's jacket.

Oh.

_Oh._

Shimiru can't help herself. Maybe it's Haiken's laughter or the Shroud of Turin-akin imprint of Shimiru's foundation and black lipstick that is showing on the bright fabric which is causing her own light giggles to escape. It doesn't matter – what matters is that she _laughs_. A thing she thought she'd forgotten how to do.

And _Haiken Mamushi _is the reason for it.

Before she can dwell on this very disturbing realization, their third team member's cry echoes through the street. Not even a moment later, Midoriya frantically runs through their field of sight. Right behind him is another team hot on his heels... and behind it is another team that is chasing the one from before... and it's followed by _yet another _team. Midoriya has somehow managed to gather every single team on a wild goose chase. What the hell.

"Let's fuck them up, WOOOOOHOOOO!" Haiken bellows, her fist hitting the air triumphantly. The snake obeys immediately, steering sharp to the left. The difference between the others' velocity and the snake's is ridiculous – in no time at all, the grey faux animal reaches its prey. For the effect, Shimiru presumes, it actually lunges for them instead of just letting them vanish into its large body.

Midoriya is the only one standing after the attack. The others are withering on the ground, groaning in pain and discomfort and, in the girls' case, sitting comfortably. The freckled boy pants for air, rips off his facemask and his hood, lets himself sink onto his knees with a long-drawn groan and coughs up a lung afterwards. Nonetheless, his gaze focuses on Haiken and Sorahoshi.

"**Other teams incapacitated! Winners are Sorahoshi Shimiru, Haiken Mamushi and Midoriya Izuku!" **is declared from the speakers.

And Midoriya – the one who'd berated them so harshly, the one who'd made Sorahoshi remember her goal, the one who'd _outrun _nine people for who knows how long – gives them a sweet smile... before falling face-first onto the ground, boneless and utterly spent.

Shimiru exchanges a glance with Haiken...

...before bursting out laughing again.


	6. It's Time to D-D-Duel!

Izuku's legs _hurt_. It's like he just absolved two soccer matches in a row without ever stopping his running. It's like he's run the big parcours round thrice.

That's not to say that he doesn't feel exhilaratingly _alive_. The adrenaline and his team's victory put a wide smile on his face, now uncovered from goggles, facemask and hood. He sits between Haiken ("Call me Mu, you ridiculous Kiwi-boy!" "_Why Kiwi?!" _went unheard by the boisterous girl) and Sorahoshi ("I... My name is Shimiru." she had hesitantly offered, shyly nodding when he'd stuttered out: "I-Izuku?" as if he were unsure on whether that's really his name or not). Izuku doesn't know why the two of them offered their respective first names – or, in Hai... _Mu_'s case a nickname – but he isn't about to turn down such a nice gesture.

Vlad King's silhouette is illuminated by the big TV screens in front of him. They show the second battle of the day whilst those who were affected by Shimiru's quirk's skin irritation have been sent to Recovery Girl's office... basically, what this means is that the three of them are the only ones aside from their teacher in the dark observers' room. _"Should be more awkward than it is." _Izuku thinks. There's a sort of satisfied exhaustion clinging to his frame.

Vlad King hums, turning his attention from one monitor to another where a broad back clad in grey is seen. Nagare crouches a little bit to the side of the camera that's sending the picture to the screen, his neck bent downwards. "I wonder what his quirk is..." Izuku absentmindedly mumbles, still watching in mild excitement – he's too spent for a more cheerful exterior right now.

"No idea, man. Gummy worms?" Mu asks, shoving a bag of said gelatinous goods in his hands. Without taking his eyes off the screen (and without really thinking of _why _and _where _Mu has kept them on her), the boy grabs a small handful and begins devouring a green-yellow one. "Thanks" he says as an afterthought.

Then he blends out Mu and Shimiru. He blends out everything else, his mind running a kilometre per second as he focuses on Nagare's descend. Underneath the small one-story building on whose roof he's perched on, a fight between two other students has broken out. Unluckily, Izuku has no idea whether one of them is on the pink haired boy's team or not.

All of a sudden, Nagare jumps, landing right next to a broad, navy-skinned shark-teethed girl who seems to be able to extend her neck. Immediately, the _Hand_some One places a hand on her head...

...and what then happens catches Izuku off-guard.

The girl's eyes roll up and... she just... drops? "What kind of quirk is that? Most likely an emitter-type; has to do with brain functions, mind or consciousness..." he mutters in awe. What an interesting quirk indeed.

"Looks brutal as fuck." Mu comments.

"... But she doesn't seem to be hurt." Shimiru intervenes.

"Nagare seems to be able to make it instantaneous. Maybe, though, he could extend the duration of whatever it is. I wonder if it's actually painful – could be a good torture method... u-um, I mean..." Izuku clears his throat when Vlad King sends him a concerned glance over his shoulder.

Mu snorts, cackling as the Midoriya starts to blush and splutter.

To save the boy's grace (at least the little of it that's left), prompt in that moment the other students start trickling in again, looking a bit tired for wear but much better now that the red blotches on their skin are gone. A tall, really buff guy with red skin, who reminds Izuku a bit of a traditional depicted Japanese tengu, heads over and drops little bundles of gummy bears on each of their laps. "I asked Recovery Girl if I could take some of them with me for 1-A but she gave me three of those."

Izuku decides to disregard being called '1-A'. Firstly _Kiwi _and now... _1-A_.

Also, at the rate he's getting candy, he'll be overweight in no time. Ah, to hell with it. He chews on the bears, immediately feeling his overused muscles relax. Wait a minute. From _Recovery Girl_? Huh... did she kiss each one of them or how does that work? Is her spit in those or why are they relieving his pain? Alright, Izuku thinks with a grimace, better not to ask about that. He doesn't want to be mentally scarred because of gummy bears of all things.

Suddenly, he's stricken with a thought. Where are his manners? His mom would be so incredibly disappointed! So, he puts on a bright smile and says: "Thank you, ...?" but he halts mid-sentence as he doesn't know the other's name. Talk about hypocrisy, huh?

"Otakebi Funk." the muscle package says with a grin.

"Thank you, Otakebi! I'm Midoriya Izuku."

"I know, 1-A." Otakebi guffaws light-heartedly, making Izuku die inside just a little. He's not going to get rid of his nicknames, is he? Maybe he should just surrender and call himself the 1-A Hero: Kiwi.

"**Other teams incapacitated! Winners are Nagare Kokoro, Shiro Kuro and Bao Agma." **

...How?! How the hell has he missed an entire fight in the span of three minutes? Staring at the winning team displayed on the monitor, he notices the lack of any evidence for an occurred battle. The three of them seem perfectly fine, one of them even _bored_.

And he'll have to duel one of them.

Their teacher turns to them. "You will join the other winning team right away." A gloved hand motions for them to return to the faux city. Izuku's stomach begins to churn. It's certainly not because of the gummies.

He's... a little bit intimidated. This is an entirely new situation for him. Of course he's had taekwondo tournaments – in which he managed to best some very tough opponents before he eventually ended up losing to someone more experienced – but this? To fight one-on-one against somebody else who harbours the dream of becoming a hero? Someone who, most likely, has trained just as hard as he has? Someone, on top of that, who can freely use their quirk? Well, no wonder his heart's thumping faster at the prospect.

Despite that, he's also _ecstatic_, all of his otherwise nervous energy bundled in the exciting idea of having his first real fight that's specifically targeted towards bringing him closer to his goal.

"Damn, you're thriving on this, aren't you?" Mu pokes him in the upper arm as they're heading into the battle arena again.

He sends her a broad grin, his steps becoming bouncy. "Hihi!" he _giggles_.

"...'Hi...hi'?" whispers Shimiru questioningly.

"You know what? That's how it's done, Kiwi! We're ready to _throw some hands_, yeah?!" the shorter girl yells encouragingly.

"Yeah!" Izuku cries back, apparently having forgotten about his anxious nature... only for a moment, though. Then he has to wince as his own voice resounds in his ears.

They arrive at the bottom of the staircase, the other three winners coming into sight. Izuku glosses over Nagare – and he has to admit it's hard because the boy's glaringly pink hair keeps trying to draw his attention – as he takes in the other two. He assumes Shiro Kuro is the person clad in a pantomime getup. In all honesty, he's not sure what gender they have as they sport quite the androgynous looks. Their high pony tail whips around as their dark eyes meet Izuku's. A warm smile stretches Shiro's (or Kuro's?) black painted lips grotesquely far up, somehow managing to convey goofiness instead of Joker vibes. Izuku answers with a nod before he assesses the third in Nagare's group.

Ah.

It's the literal devil.

No, for real. Two small horns grow from Bao Agma's head, a pointed, black, thin tail that protrudes from his lower back swishes lazily. Two demonic wings that are definitely by all laws of physics too small to carry a human being twitch in anticipation while Bao's red eyes, surrounded by black sclera, muster Izuku's team. The devilish boy has left behind his previous air of indifference for sure.

Izuku's heart flutters. A storm swirls in his innards until they're reduced to a mess of pure anxiousness. Who will he fight against? Who can he _win _against?  
Nagare's quirk is an absolute unknown aside from the activation mechanics. He doesn't know if he could recover from it if he were hit by it. Also, Izuku has no long range weapons in his arsenal – which means he has to get real close to his opponent. In Nagare's case this would be incredibly dangerous and dumb. If Izuku's matched up against him, though, there's nearly no other way he could best him. Speed. It's speed he will have to rely on. Luckily, now that his legs are healed, Izuku can maybe somehow wing it... but that's only if he is paired up with Nagare.

If he has to go up against Bao or Shiro? Izuku has no idea how they fight. Absolutely none. All the footage he's watched has either focused on other teams or on the _Hand_yman. Bao has a tail – If he could control it... but no, Izuku shouldn't assume things before the fight starts. And –

"Ouch!" the freckled boy hisses, rubbing his upper arm, "Why, Mu?!" He shoots her a betrayed look that the slightly shorter girl counters with her own unimpressed eyebrow raise.

"Don't mumble yourself into an early grave, Kiwi." she advises. Izuku's mouth closes automatically. Ugh. This habit of his is a damn pain in the ass.

"**Alright, boys and girls!" **Shiro gestures animatedly to themselves after Vlad-sensei's greeting. The man clears his throat and begins anew: **"Sorry for that. Alright, people! I have drawn lots and paired you up at random. The first match is Sorahoshi Shimiru against Bao Agma. Second one's Haiken Mamushi against Nagare Kokoro and, last but not least, Midoriya Izuku against Shiro Kuro. The round ends when either one of you gives up, gets too injured or flies out of the bounds the helper bots have marked with holograms **(Seriously? They bought those damn things again?! They were so fragile last year and cost so much, goddamn it, Nedzu.)**! Eh... anyways, Sorahoshi and Bao, please go to the bounds. You others sit down on the provided bench." **Izuku, Mu and Shimiru exchange awkward glances at Vlad King's budget rant but Bao and Nagare snicker at its ridiculousness and Shiro... mimics laughing. The devil and the blue haired girl then obediently walk to their destination while Izuku and Mamushi sit down next to each other on the aforementioned bench.

"Good luck, Shimiru!" Izuku calls after her. Mu adds: "Beat the devil out of him, girlie!" ("I think you basically instructed her to kill him." Izuku murmurs. Yellow un-slitted eyes blink sheepishly. "Oopsie") Shimiru nods thankfully with a tiny smile.

"C'mon, my man, you got this!" Nagare roars from his seat next to Mu and Shiro gives their third teammate a good luck thumbs up.

"Yeah, yeah." Bao drawls unimpressed.

The two of them come to face each other in the boxing ring-akin marked out battlefield. Cute little robots (that Izuku coos at internally) hold up the hologram projectors with their hands, one in each corner of the square. He watches entranced as, after their teacher begins the match, Bao rushes forward so swiftly and with such a high velocity that Izuku's surprised Shimiru manages to dodge the frontal attack. All pretences have fallen from the boy – his laziness vanished, his bored expression given leeway to a concentrated face. But Bao isn't the only one who has changed in such short amount of time.

Shimiru's smirk sends a shiver down Izuku's spine. His teammate resembles a murderous goddess intent on sending Bao back to hell where he belongs. (Alright, maybe he's being a bit too dramatic but really, the amount of seriousness during this mock fight astounds him.)

The girl seems to wait for the perfect moment to strike. Most people wouldn't notice it but she's not making a tight fist. Instead, she's producing a few of her stars and Izuku has guessed her intention right because when Bao hurls himself towards Shimiru, she remains still until the very last second. Then, in a flurry, she hurls those tiny hellish metal stars right in the boy's face.

What?!

Izuku stares open-mouthed. All noise has been reduced to a buzz as he watches Bao's black-red hair flies backwards, his head ducking right underneath Shimiru's stars' trajectory. He balances on his _tail _– the thin black rod is a lot sturdier than Izuku's anticipated. Bao jumps up with the help of it and aims a punch right at Shimiru's nose. She dodges, grabbing his fist mid-air. A yowl of pain from Bao makes Izuku guess Shimiru has just in that moment decided to grow one of her stars out of the palm with which she's holding Bao's fist. Ugh, that must have hurt them both.

It's the factor of surprise that the pale girl is aiming for, though. And she has it. For one second, the devil is distracted by the unexpected burning ache and that's when Shimiru strikes. Her boot-clad foot lands in Bao's stomach, sending him careening backwards.

In the air, Bao cleverly uses his small wings to stop his flight. Steadying himself against one of the marker-bots he drawls with an unhinged smile that could have easily been seen on Aizawa's mouth: "Damn, you aren't bad at all."

Shimiru flicks her long midnight blue hair back. "Same to you." she says.

Bao recovers quickly and as soon as he appears ready to continue, Shimiru steadies herself once more. But he doesn't attempt to do the same move a second time. No, he begins running circles around his opponent, getting speedier with every second until he's just a blur.

"He's using his tail and wings to propel himself forward... can't keep that up for long 'cuz his muscles are gonna protest pretty soon." Izuku thinks out loud, gaining an appreciative nod courtesy of Shiro whose eyes are straining to stay on the fight in front of them.

Just as predicted, Bao shoots out of a random direction towards Shimiru. She doesn't see it coming. Can't see it coming, in all honesty. He's too fast for her. Izuku winces when her body's flung over the blue hologram and crashes to the ground. Automatically, he rises from his seat and rushes towards his teammate. "God, are you okay?" he asks but it's so fast it sounds more like "God'reyougay?" and that's... wow.

Shimiru lets out a pathetic groan. Her hair has been blown into her face. "Hurts..." she grumbles and has to cough right after, "Got him."

Mu, who kneels at her other side and slowly helps her steady herself, frowns in confusion. "Huh?"

"...think you should... bring him to Recovery Girl..." the gothic girl rasps out haltingly.

Izuku opens his mouth but reflexively, he cranes his neck to check on Bao... and for fuck's sake, that boy doesn't look good. He's whimpering, clutching his stomach where his dark hero costume's torn apart due to some of Shimiru's burning stars literally having been rammed into the flesh of his abdomen. "Shit." the Midoriya curses.

"**I don't know who's won that but both are K.O so... that's... wow. I called Recovery Girl, she's on her way. In the meantime, please remain calm. We are going to continue our matches shortly. **(Holy shit, what's up with those little monsters?! It's always Yamada's class that's the absolute fucking worst, I can't believe it. Oh, the mic's still –)**"**

"Pffth" Shimiru snorts. Leaning against a fake house's wall, she's at least more stable than on the ground. "Vlad-sensei's such a dork." she slurs and Izuku and Mamushi share an alarmed look as their third starts laughing airily.

"I think she doesn't feel so good." Mu provides unhelpfully, scratching the back of her unruly black mophead.

"I think Bao doesn't feel so good." Izuku adds, eyes wandering between the delusional girl and the now crying boy.

"Damn, they really went at it, didn't they?"

"Well, you were the one who told her to beat the devil out of him so..."

They look at Bao. They look at Shimiru. They look at each other. Izuku begins giggling and Mu isn't far behind.

"You know what, Kiwi?" Mu says between bouts of laughter, "Ya really aren't a bad one. Not at all."

Izuku smiles.

...

"Please take it slow for the next hours. Here are some gummies, dear."

"But I already –" Shimiru tries to intervene, holding up her small bag she'd previously gotten from Otakebi.

"Take it, dear."

"I don't-"

"_Take. It. Dear._"

Note to himself: Recovery Girl is absolutely not to be messed with. Izuku watches with a weird fascination as she _rips out _Shimiru's quirk from Bao's stomach while she kisses him at the same time. He's never seen such an accurate representation of the phrase 'carrot and stick' before. Bao doesn't even have time to cry as he's immediately healed by... essentially himself. Odd.

"**Good. Now that we have those two cared for, we'll go ahead with our exercise. Nagare and Haiken, it's your turn. Recovery Girl, please stay on stand-by." **

Recovery Girl nods sagely and sits down where Mu sat previously.

"Destroy him!" Izuku pumps his fist in the air. A cough from the professional heroine and a pout from Nagare let him recoil hastily. "Um... I-I mean... Take care!" this time, the fist pump is a lot less enthusiastic. Shimiru's barely able to lift her head, much less to encourage the other girl. Nonetheless, Mu seems to get the gist as she flashes Izuku and Shimiru a grin.

Then she heads into the boxing ring. Nagare's pink irises follow her movements. He's not as serious as Bao'd been – however, he isn't taking this lightly either.

"**Go!" **

Maybe, Izuku thinks deadpan, randomizing the thing wasn't Vlad King's best idea. Imagine: Nagare Kokoro, a guy whose quirk most definitely involves direct contact with his enemy against Haiken Mamushi who can pull a _gigantic ash snake _out of thin air. It's the ultimate short vs. long range battle... but poor Nagare hasn't been able to really prepare for such a scenario.

And it shows. "Man, this hurts to watch." Izuku mumbles sympathetically as the _hand_some boy is chased by the snake. Oh... there he goes, running out of the bounds because he tries to avoid being consumed by the ashen creature.

"**The winner is Haiken Mamushi."**

"That was so lame, dude. You gotta build a... a spear or something into your repertoir!" Mu rants after dissolving her quirk.

"A spear?"

"Or, like, a bow. Or a rifle!" the girl exclaims, then turning away from the befuddled Nagare.

"_A rifle...?" _Izuku hears him repeat quietly. But he ignores the other's incredulousness as he throws little glances at Shiro Kuro who musters him unabashedly.

"**Now for the last duel. Shiro Kuro against Midoriya Izuku. Please... ah, I guess you get the gist by now. Go!" **

Shiro waves their hand. Because Izuku's polite, he waves back.

"..." For some reason, Shiro sends a judging look his way.

Oh. It's... it was their quirk. They activated their quirk and Izuku waved back like an absolute moron. _"Swallow me, ground. Swallow me and never let me go." _He tries to overplay his embarrassment by starting an attack with his baseball bat ready to strike. Shiro does the odd motion again right before Izuku's bat hits them.

_"Fuck!"_ It's a wall. Shiro can mime an invisible wall into existence and he has just pretty much used his own force against himself. Painful tremors run up his forearms. Izuku's face mask has gone back to hiding his mouth and his goggles obscure his eyes. At least his opponent hasn't seen his reaction because of that and Izuku can play his pain off.

He hits the barrier again, lighter to assess whether it's still there or not. Quirks like that often have set duration times and Izuku thinks it can't be running for long because Shiro has had to renew it once already. One more time he hits the invisible wall until Shiro does the wave motion. About ten seconds then. Now the question remains whether this shields them from all sides or just from the front. To find that out, Izuku runs – inspired by Bao – in a circle around his opponent, striking the air from all sides. Nope, he doesn't feel any resistance.

The boy then decides to up his velocity and get in a hit from behind. Shiro's a lot slower than Izuku is – they don't come across as very athletic.

Izuku's bat swings. It nearly meets its target but...

...but Shiro walks on air.

_"A pantomime quirk! Oh my god, how exciting is that? Holy shit, that's so rare! The last known pantomime quirked hero died around sixty years ago – and she was European. What a cool power. I wonder what they can do with it? _Can they create anything – only invisible? Or does it have limits?"

"**Midoriya, please refrain from going off on a tangent. Your opponent has stood still for the last minute just to give you a chance of snapping out of it." **

"..." Izuku only closes his mouth in absolute horror. It's true. He's been rambling – in the middle of a duel, might he add – and... and... what the hell must Shiro think of him? Firstly he waves back stupidy and now he has just started analyzing their quirk like a total creep. It's a wonder Mu and Shimiru still talk to him!

Vlad King clears his throat.

Finally, he's able to completely clear his head. A quick plan forms in Izuku's overheated brain as he fiddles his rope out of its holder. Shiro's wary eyes trail his every movement. With his bat in his one hand and the rope in his other one, the green haired one starts to run once again, not in a circle but straight behind Shiro who can use their stair technique a second time.

But that's exactly what Izuku anticipates. Swiftly, he forms a loose noose with his rope, spins around and – _gotcha! _– he catches the other's foot in it. Tripping them midair, they flounder for a solid second before having no choice but to land on their hands. Izuku's heart speeds up, eustress hammering against his ribs as he sits down on Shiro's back. He uses the rope to bind their hands and just as he's about to do the same for their feet –

\- Shiro throws one of their legs up in Izuku's direction.

"Ah" the Midoriya thinks before the immense pain of that last effort attack on his enemy's part engulfs him, "They don't need their hands to use their quirk... makes sense. _Fuuuuuuck._"

"**Shiro Kuro wins." **he hears... but why would Vlad-sensei say that when Izuku has... when Izuku has...? Yeah, _what_ did he actually do? There are bright lights dancing in his field of vision that remind him of Shimiru's stars.

What...

Um...

"Dude, I" someone says. Someone else yells something. Izuku closes his eyes and just listens to the dark drums roaring in his ears.

...

"What did you mime? You knocked me out cold with it – I'm impressed by the way! – I'm just curious what exactly it was!"

Shiro holds their face in their hands.

"You don't have to be ashamed! It can't be that bad, I'm sure!" Izuku reassures.

They shake their head, floppy black ponytail waggling left and right. With one hand they slowly grab their whiteboard and write down what they used to destroy the entirety of class 1-A.

"An... elephant." Shimiru, who's been feeling a lot better (albeit more tired), reads out loud slowly.

Shiro hides their face again.

...

Izuku packs his stuff in a snail's pace. With every arm movement his poor abused muscles, that have been nearly pierced by a whole imaginary elephant's tusks, mind you, groan in protest. He's so glad for Recovery Girl's presence and he now considers her to be number three on his "Favourite Heroes" list – right behind his personal number one, Sir Nighteye, and his close number two, All Might. (How ironic.)

He's the only one left in the boy's locker room as everyone else has already been dismissed with their small amounts of battle damage. Even Bao had recovered quite well by the end of the lesson. That makes Izuku the sole exception. Maybe because he's exhausted his legs like crazy prior to his match against Shiro.

When he's finally done packing, he hugs his dark blue backpack carefully with one arm to his chest. He doesn't think he could carry the thing on his actual back right now. Izuku walks out of the building slower than usual but at least he can listen to his _Another Day Ends _playlist while doing so; songs to let the day end and soothe himself are mixed with nature's early evening sounds.

So he wanders a while. Every so often a flare of discomfort makes him flinch but the pain gradually eases, he notices. The early evening sky, coloured in a beautiful orange-y yellow and pinkish cloudy gradient, extends endlessly over Izuku's head. While the day had been fairly hot, now a cool wind mouths at his bare-skinned forearm.

_Oh, don't be scared about it. _

_Don't forget it was real._

_Do you remember the way it made you feel?_

**Jarryd James – Do you Remember**

Izuku hums the tune, has to stop when for a single moment his back rebels harsher than before. His head hurts in response before the pain calms down. Ugh, that Shiro truly has a terrifying quirk! What one could do with such a power... not that he should fantasize about having a quirk. It only makes him kind of tired to think he's at such a disadvantage.

Abruptly, he comes to a halt. His thoughts stop. His breath stops. Even his music seems to stop.

He's on top of a bridge.

There's a deer right in front of him. Standing on the asphalt, it raises its head in a greeting, almost.

"Um." Izuku doesn't feel well. How? How could this be?

How could the same deer he's created in his mind appear right before him?

_You don't need to worry._

a voice says.

It's the deer's.

_You don't have to worry about not having a quirk for your chosen path._

the deer says deceptively calm.

_Because your chosen path does not exist._

it tells him in the same unnerving tone. Its beady eyes quell out of its skull. They're melting, melting onto the pavement and they roll towards Izuku's shoes. Black orbs judge him, watch him from below – something that shouldn't be.

_Every hero has once been a breathing human._

_But breathing humans can't be heroes._

it says.

Izuku can't breathe.

Izuku wakes up. He's lying on a bench. Gasping for air, he looks around in confusion. Ah, shit, he only wanted to quickly sit down and now... now he's dreamt _that_. A shudder runs down his spine. That felt real and surreal at the same time, a paradox of an experience.

He heads home.

And ignores that he can't remember sitting down.


End file.
